A Set of Regrets

Her name reflected the tone of her skin, and the color of her character. From a glance, one would easily discern the elegance of her every movement. Her fingers were that of a maiden’s who would never hurt a fly. With her figure slender, and her eyes round, she gave off an impression of innocence.

My pristine image of hers would have remained pristine had she not suddenly talked to me during our first year. I was being teased by my friends after our teacher had announced that I was the only one to receive perfect marks on our first examination. The student who placed in second was behind by a single point.

This particular student decided to approach me, pouting. Her voice was as smooth as her hair silky. It matched her appearance and behavior perfectly. With that demeanor and those expressions, she would fit right in among a noble setting.

If only her words were of the same quality.

“You’re Valentine, right?” She sounded cross but I just could not feel it with her voice seeming so kind. “I’m Ivory, the one who had the second highest score.”

I nodded, raising my brow to question her intention of talking to me. Behind her was her best friend, a girl named Katelyn. She seemed like she was the one who was feeling humiliated of her friend’s actions as she tugged on the back of Ivory’s vest whispering something to her.

“If we had done this test in a fog, I definitely would have had a better score than you!”

Katelyn was face palming herself at this point.

“Because it would be really foggy, and I wouldn’t be able to see the questions?”

I didn’t know what this strange woman was saying. What I did know was at that moment, I knew I had made the mistake of entertaining her question. That was the moment that I had always regretted. If only I had been silent and moody that day.

“No, of course not. Don’t be silly.” She laughed all smug as if she were the smartest person in the room. “It’d be because you’d mist all the right answers”.

She caused an awkward silence along with secondhand embarrassment inside the room that day. Probably made Katelyn want to completely disappear in her place. She broke the silence with her own giggling as she left leaving everyone in a daze with how awful her joke was. She was confident through and through. I had other thoughts running in my mind that day as I caressed my temple with my right hand.

“I thought she was pretty cute, but that moment cemented it,” I whispered to myself.

Her name clearly reflected the blank slate that was her mind. Upon taking another glance, one could easily notice the clumsiness of her small movements. Her fingers were that of an airhead's who would hurt herself with a bread knife. With her thin figure, and her eyes ever so drowsy, she gave of an impression of an absolute oaf.

The entire year was then filled with her terrible attempts of humor being rained onto me. Each one was worse than the last. She genuinely found each joke of hers hilarious. It was pretty obvious when someone’s laugh is fake or being forced, I consider myself quite of an expert in that field. The tone, the expression, the body gestures. Each one of hers were truly genuine.

She was beautiful, through and through. Somebody once called out to her asking if she didn’t mind laughing so coarsely. She didn't think anything wrong with the question and responded normally. If only I had the courage to tell them off with how I thought of her. She looked best when she laughed and smiled.

It was already our second year, a few weeks in and she still sat next to me.

“Why do you always have me hear your jokes?”

It took her a while to answer. She would usually be witty with her remarks and cheerful with her retorts.

“Whenever I think about those jokes and how they made me laugh, I immediately think of you next,” she answered modestly, avoiding eye contact. “I thought of that quick smile you’d have once I share it with you. I’d love to tell you a lot more if it would mean seeing more of that.”

I was flustered.

“Just kidding! I enjoy your annoyed reactions!” With a cheeky smile, she laughed at me.

I proceeded to hit her head with a notebook.

“Why’d you suddenly ask?”

“No reason.”

“Is it because you want me to stop?”

“N-no, of course not.”

“Then does that mean you enjoy my jokes?” She got hit by another notebook.

As if the brute force of a blunt object had granted her a new idea, she suddenly took a notepad out of her bag and began scribbling something down. Her eagerness to list down a seemingly endless flurry of thoughts apparent on her round face.

“My jokes are beautiful, aren’t they?” She whispered.

I tilted my head to get a better view. Her glimmering eyes were locked onto the pages she wrote on while she held her giggling back as mine were on hers.

“They are.”